"A Camping We Will Go...."

Sike.

That's right. I said "sike". The camping trip was cancelled due to unseasonal temperatures and high winds. Some people bravely put up their tents, but it was for naught. The wind would just beat it until the tent collapsed to the ground. And of course, no one told the BROTHER that it was cancelled until I got down there. Hmmm.....fancy THAT shit.

My son and I got there around 11:30. Not too long of a ride, just over 2.5 hours. I pay my $10, find the campsite thats damn near abandoned outside of some serious extremists. Luckily, I saw one of the other Den Leaders and he informed about everyone leaving to go back home. He offered to let us hang with them as long as we liked since they were lucky enough to get his mother's RV. I wasn't going take them up on their offer because that conversation between he and I at that moment had been the longest convo we'd ever had. However, my son was like "COOL!" Its funny how as a child the slightest things amuse you such as sitting in an RV. So we sat in there to warm up after coming off of the beach. Of course, it was a lot of small talk because like I said, I didn't know them. In fact, it was the 1st time I had ever met his wife and I just happened to meet his mom as well. Interesting things I learned about him and his peeps:

His ancestory is German, not Italian. Krachk or something like that. One of those names that reads like it sounds but you think "Damn, I KNOW it can't be pronounced like that!"

It costs $600 in gas round-trip to go to Ohio in an RV.

They have 3 kids not 2.

My son likes to play with toy guns.

My son is a master of the embellishment by over-stating periods of time in the form of "long, long, LONG time".

They have a 8 year old retriever name Riley. Arthritic.

Mom and grandma ain't the best of friends. Not enemies, but they ain't going on no shopping sprees either.

So after a cup of hot cocoa, we decided to take advantage of the wind by flying a kite. Too easy. That's how rough that wind was. He had the kite in the air in about 30 seconds with the string so tight you could have played "Dust in The Wind" on it. (Hey! A metaphor! I must be NICE!) The Krachks were so sweet. They offered us lunch but to me that was going too far because I doubt they were thinking about making enough for a whole lot of people. So we rolled out to Subway. Before I get on the topic of the workers at Subway, Let's talk about Assateague for a minute. Ideally, you figure its a beautiful place full of horses grazing and swatting their tails and if you're lucky you'll get a glimpse of a few. Uh, maybe half of that is true. There are no natural predators of the horses on the island so horses are everywhere. In fact, a small herd...no, 2 small herds were right near the RV. Like within a few feet. The biggest issue to me was the prevalent presence of turds. Turds stacked high, turds stacked low. Turds blown over the sand from their short or high stacks. And to put the exclamation point on it, there were port-a-potties at the campsites. And me in all my profound wisedom decided to use one. Need I say more? I should have pissed in the woods...

So we get to the Subway and there are 3 workers there. All of them young Russian (or some Slavic language) girls. I've always been skeptical of Russian immigrants because I hear so many stories. We all know that some of the women get over here and are sold off to prostitution or to get a hurt-ting American husband who they will dog. The other reason I hear is that they are either in the Russian mafia or work for it. I know this sounds silly, but I believe that shit too. Wanna know why? Because a long time ago I used to live in one of the worst neighborhoods in B-more (Looked like this one...without the boarded up windows of course. Wasn't living that trife!). Usually when I tried to get a cab to the house it was an issue. "Oh, I'm off duty." "I don't go to the west side." But the Russian kats? Shiiiit. They'll take your ass to the other side of hell as long as you got the fare. It was so wild because I'd tell the address with one foot out of the cab waiting for the white man to say no but I hear the Russian accent answer "Ok. I take you." No fear whatsoever. And don't give me that shit about they ain't privy to the hood. They know! They be knowing!

Anyway, I'm apprehensive in the Subway because in the back of my mind I'm waiting for the deal to go down. Everytime I hear them say something to each other in Russian, my eye is on the door for the kat in the long black coat and big fur hat. Waiting to pull my son and myself under a table or something for protection from the flying bullets.
Ain't I silly?